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I live with a crazy person
So I live with a crazy person. Like OCD crazy crazy. I don’t want to expose any names so let’s just call him….Shmeric. Let me count the ways that he is crazy:
- He bought and replaced my hand towels JUST so that the colors would match our bathroom rug.
- He organized all the cups in our cupboard (and makes me put them in the same way) so that the handles have to face outward.
- He bought a body wash that he doesn’t like the smell of and everyday would complain about it/want to buy a new one even though the wash he bought is barely used. (and every time we’ve been to Target ever since, we would stop by the body wash section to look…and lament)
- He doesn’t like the way I put away groceries and would rearrange everything afterwards.
- He only allows me to have 4 pairs of shoes in the living room because he doesn’t allow shoes to overflow off our shoe rack.
- He spent several hours hanging up the paintings and mirror in our apt. He would make me hold the (HEAVY!) mirror in different positions so he could see what it looks like and kept insisting all the paintings are crooked (even if you can’t really tell with the naked eye).
- He convinced me to a buy a container that we had no use for so we can put it in the bathroom. (until recently when I bought Q-tips which he put them in)
It wasn’t even my idea to document this in the first place. It was Shmeric who said “You’re gonna blog about this aren’t you?” And so, I did.
